


Wide-Eyed Idiots

by GraduateGraduate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Castiel, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:59:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraduateGraduate/pseuds/GraduateGraduate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel falls from Heaven and finds the doors locked behind him and his siblings.  He adopts a human lifestyle, and it doesn't take him long to notice an attractive brown-haired, green-eyed beauty in his neighborhood.  Fluff ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wide-Eyed Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> Work in Progress. I'll add to this as I can.
> 
> This is my first fanfic. Constructive criticism welcome. Please be gentle.

Chapter 1 - Castiel 

It had been three months since Castiel and all the other angels had plummeted to earth.  He burned hot and gold during the drop, and he had been disoriented as he picked himself up off the ground.  When he’d unfurled his wings he found them mostly intact, but the edges were singed, and patches had burned through completely.  It wasn’t difficult to locate some of his fallen brothers and sisters. None of them were sure what had happened.  All that was certain was that the doors had been locked behind them, and judging by his inability to repair his wings instantly, their Grace had been weakened by the severed connection to Heaven.

Soon after, his brothers and sisters started to fight. Castiel quickly decided the best way to survive was to adopt a human lifestyle and do his best to stay hidden from his siblings.

At first he’d spent his days sitting at bus stops. Occasionally he’d ride a bus, but for the most part he would just sit and people-watch.  But soon he was having a hard time fighting sleep. The amount he needed shortly increased from a few minutes of dozing to a few hours.  After spending a night on the bench of a bus stop he decided he would need a more permanent location for recharging, so he found an apartment in a quiet residential neighborhood.  
  
He spent his first week as a renter sitting in his sparsely furnished 1-bedroom flat.  He sat on the bed after waking, sat on the counter while he ate, sat on the couch after breakfast, sat on the floor when the couch became uncomfortable, sat on the coffee table for a change of scenery.  He apparently needed something to do with his time.  He’d asked for a job at the café on his corner, but when they told him to fill out an application and submit a resume he realized getting a job was basically out of the question.  So instead he’d applied for the next intake at the local university.  He was surprised when he’d received notification of his conditional acceptance.  The condition being that he take a wide-range of first year classes that were meant to make up for his missing high school records.  No problem, he was only doing this to kill time anyway.

The busy bakeries, overabundance of late-night to-go food options, and a single elementary school in the area ensured there was a predictable ebb and flow of activity over the course of a day. Castiel fell into a rhythm along with everyone else.  It didn’t take more than a few weeks for the faces to start to become familiar.

 

***

 

Cas wakes up at 7, his brows furrowed against the light streaming into his room.  He lifts his cheek from the pillow and squints at his clock, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness.  Seeing the time, he sighs, and pushes himself up and off the still-made bed. In the washroom he inspects his appearance.  His Grace is holding well enough that he still doesn’t need to shower.  He smooths the front of his white collared shirt, tightens his tie, and adjusts the shoulders of his beige trenchcoat.  They’re a little wrinkled from having been slept in, but are otherwise in good shape.  He notices the grey bags beginning to form under his dark blue eyes.  He scrubs a hand over his face, “four hours might not be cutting it anymore”.

Cas heads down the block to the bakery. As he exits, coffee and muffin in hand, he catches a flash of olive green in the corner of his eye. His breath catches as he hopes he’s not mistaken in expecting to see the tall, light brown-haired beauty he’s seen wearing a jacket just that colour before.  He’s been trying to muster up the courage to introduce himself for a while. Under his breath, he recites the concise set of words he thinks are socially acceptable for a sidewalk introduction: “Hi.  I’m Castiel. I find you aesthetically pleasing. Can I buy you a coffee?” He fixes his courage, determined to actually say it this time.

He turns his head and sure enough, there he is. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and his hair manages to look both meticulously groomed and haphazardly tousled at the same time.  Cas’ heart sinks as he notices the even taller man walking with him.  He tilts his head slightly and squints at the tall one, trying to see if he can discern their relationship from what he’s seeing, but he can’t. They’re not holding hands, but they’re also walking closer together than platonic men usually do. He’s said hi in passing before, and Cas readies himself to utter a small greeting as they near him, but as he makes the eye contact required for a friendly exchange, he loses himself in those golden green eyes.  
  
Wide-eyed Cas, rooted to the spot, doesn’t know how many heartbeats have passed, but he’s suddenly painfully aware that he’s held the gaze too long, and that because the beautiful stranger is in a conversation with his companion, there isn’t going to be a good moment to actually say “hi” at all. So he doesn’t. But he holds the eye contact until the pair pass him by.  Once they’re gone, he exhales a long slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and runs his hand over his face.  _Fuck, Cas.  Really? You couldn’t just look away and walk past?  You had to stand in one spot and stare? Fuck._ He shakes his head slightly, takes a swig of his too-hot coffee, and hurries to catch his bus to class.

 

Chapter 2 – Dean

Sam’s face cracks into a goofy smile as he nudges his brother’s shoulder as they pass the bakery.  “Dude.  What was that?”

Dean blinks his wide green eyes a few times, “what was what?”  His voice comes out a little gruffer than intended.

Sam laughs and points a thumb over his shoulder, “that guy in the trenchcoat.  Do you know him?”

Dean blinks again and shrugs his shoulders, “no.” _Drop it, Sam._   He had no idea why he hadn’t been able to look away from the dark-haired man with his tie on backwards.  He had wanted to smile nonchalantly, nod curtly and then look at _anything_ but those ocean-blue eyes.  God, those ocean-blue eyes.  He tried to put them out of his mind, but they kept swimming into view.

Sam shoves his shoulder again, snapping him back into the moment, “well maybe you should.  I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that in a really long time.”

Dean rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders again, deliberately not looking at Sam.

 

Chapter 3 – Castiel

A week has passed since Castiel’s awkward lack-of-exchange with the brown-haired beauty, but he still hasn’t stopped mulling it over. Cas can’t decide if the taller man is beaut’s boyfriend, a platonic friend, or a family member. He also can’t decide if he can still propose coffee after seeing him with probably-his-boyfriend or holding eye contact for an embarrassingly long time.  Cas tries to tell himself that the guy hadn’t noticed, and he was feeling obsessively embarrassed over nothing.  But how could he not have noticed?  If he’d looked away, perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed Cas continue to stare at him, but he’d _held his gaze_. He had to have noticed. And wondered why this wide-eyed idiot was standing still and staring at him.  For a day, Cas tried to convince himself that humans actually did hold eye contact for a long time, and what had transpired was not abnormal. However, after a full day of attempting to hold eye contact with strangers for an uncomfortably long time, and not being successful as each one looks away after a beat or two, part of him hopes he will never run into his green-eyed wonder again.

 

***

 

As Cas exits his apartment building this morning, he mentally prepares himself the same way he has each day this week. He decides that if he runs into his beautiful stranger with his companion he’ll stare at the ground, but if he catches him on his own, he’ll do his best to spit out the words of his well-rehearsed script in the right order.  He repeats it to himself under his breath several times before pushing the door open, “Hi. I’m Castiel.  I find you aesthetically pleasing.  Can I buy you a coffee? Hi.  I’m Castiel.  I find you aesthetically pleasing.  Can I buy you a coffee? Hi.  I’m Castiel. I find you aesthetically pleasing. Can I buy you a coffee?”

Cas takes a deep breath of crisp air, looks both ways to see if he can spot any sign of him, swallows his disappointment and feels a simultaneous wave of relief when he doesn’t, and heads to the bakery.

 

*** 

 

Chapter 4 - Dean

Dean pays the cashier before passing one of the two coffees waiting on the counter to Sam, who heads to the cream and sugar stand to take the bitter edge off his.  Dean takes a sip of his almost-scalding, black coffee, savors the flavor and burn, and thanks his server before turning to join Sam.

As Dean turns, he’s startled by the dark-haired, blue-eyed man with the backwards tie he hadn’t noticed waiting in line behind him. Dean stops himself suddenly to keep from crashing into him, but his un-lidded coffee sloshes, and Dean watches, eyes wide with horror, as his hot coffee spills down the sleeve of the cute stranger’s trenchcoat and splatters his white button-up.  In his surprise, Dean drops the cup completely, and the rest of its contents cascade to the floor, soaking his jeans and shoes. For what feels like an eternity, Dean just stands there, slack-jawed and red-faced, mind blank. He can vaguely feel his legs burning where the hot liquid has soaked into his pants, but he can’t actually form a thought about what to do about this.

Dean snaps to as he feels napkins being shoved into his hand.  _Napkins.  Why am I holding napkins?_ He does the only thing he can think of, and he reaches his arms straight out in front of him and starts dabbing at the cute man’s soiled jacket, babbling his apologies.

“I am _so_ sorry.  So sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?” He moves to push the man’s tie out of the way so he can clean up his shirt, realizes what he’s doing, and shoves his hands, still holding the napkins, deep into his pockets so he can’t embarrass himself further.

Deep blue eyes blink back at him. Dean isn’t expecting the deep, gravelly voice that responds, “I. Um. I’m fine.”  Cas bites his lower lip, as he looks up at him.  _Fuck you’re cute_ , sprints through Dean’s brain.

The silence that follows hangs between them briefly before being broken by Sam struggling to keep his laughter in. He starts coughing loudly into his fist and pulls himself together before intervening.  Sam can’t wipe the grin from his face.  “This is my brother, Dean.  He’s really sorry about pouring his coffee on you.” 

Dean notices the man’s eyes flood with… relief? before he replies.  “It’s fine. Really.”  He cocks his head to the side and squints up at Dean, “Hi. Castiel.  You aesthetically… pleasing.  Coffee?”

Dean just stares back.  He hears Sam crack up behind him.

“ _Shit_ ,” Castiel mutters under his breath.  “I meant, I find you, would you like to… I could buy you a coffee?”

Dean lets out a huff of nervous laughter. “I just spilled my coffee on you. Shouldn’t I be buying you a coffee?”

“Okay.”

Dean feels Sam nudge his arm. He pulls a hand out of his pocket to accept a fresh napkin and a pen.  “Right. Um,” he scribbles his name and number onto the napkin as legibly as he can manage, “this is my number. I’m terribly sorry about this. Let me know if I can make it up to you sometime.”  He passes the napkin to Castiel, and then steps around him to rush out of the bakery without getting a new coffee. 

Sam pulls himself together as much as he can, little tears of mirth threatening to spill down his cheeks, and half-waves, half-salutes Castiel as he follows his brother out of the shop.

“Smooth, man.  Smooth,” Sam laughs.

Dean does his best to straighten his shoulders, and to not scuff his shoe against the pavement.  “You know what?  You’re going to do this thing where you just shut the hell up.  Forever.”

 

***


End file.
